


Moving On

by Hanhanoria



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Post-War, Secret Snarry Swap 2017, Sexual Fantasy, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-09 14:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12889641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanhanoria/pseuds/Hanhanoria
Summary: HP/SS move on from a mutually lost love after the war.





	Moving On

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays and thank you to whoever left this wonderful prompt! I’ll bet anything it wasn’t the direction you were expecting, wasn’t what I was really expecting either… funny thing, that, but I’m pretty happy with it. I would have loved for it to be longer. If I have time, I’ll expand it out. Enjoy! 
> 
> Prompt 17 from themightyflynn: Harry starts receiving anonymous letters after the end of the war. They start off as almost confessions, but they become much more as it goes on.

He didn’t board the Hogwarts Express and take it with everyone else. None of them did. It was awkward, an 18-year-old hardened war hero attending the same school as innocent 11-year-olds. He paced around the Head office waiting for McGonagall to address the lot of them. Who were they missing? Neville was on the sofa. Malfoy, Davis, and Zabini were spread around the room. That took care of Gryffindor and Slytherin. Goldstein and Boot were bickering over their drinks. MacDougal was politely engaging Davis. Smith was sitting opposite Neville. Jones was staring at Zabini. That left… that Hufflepuff boy Harry didn’t remember the name of. 

Their missing person stepped through the floo. His robes looked old and crumpled but he was smiling and nodded to Harry. Hopkins, Harry remembered suddenly. His name was Hopkins. 

“If I may have your attention, then,” McGonagall called. 

They all seated themselves on the furniture in a half-circle facing the woman. She smiled softly as she considered them. “It is wonderful that you all have returned to finish out the conventional education track. Many of you will be under private tutelage of just one professor. Some of you will not. It is your responsibility to see to your schedule with the professors. We have dedicated a corridor in the dungeons to you 8th years. You will sleep two to a room, no mixing genders.” There was a pause in which they all glared at each other. Or, everyone glared at the Slytherins and the Slytherins glared back. “Because of your age you will limit your interactions with the younger years.”

There was more nodding and they were dismissed. Harry lingered until they were gone and sat on the other side of McGonagall’s desk. “I’m a bit surprised, Potter,” she said as she plopped into her chair. “We all were.”

Harry smiled shyly. Everyone was surprised he was returning to school. Ron had been accepted straight into the Auror program; Hermione had a job with some Ministry department. “Well, I need another year for a mastery. Do you know which professor will supervise me?”

“I do,” McGonagall said as she pointedly looked at her paperwork. She separated it into three piles while Harry stared. “It is highly abnormal for anyone to seek a mastery in curse breaking. Often times, curse-breakers obtain some other mastery.” Harry nodded. He already knew this. He’d been told this over and over. “We have a professor who is qualified to instruct you, fortunately, and it will be magnificent for someone to be an expert of wards. I do see you going in that direction.”

It sounded good to Harry. The last person to have any sort of mastery in curse breaking was Dumbledore. It was the reason he could reinforce and change Hogwarts’ wards. Terribly ironic, of course, seeing as he should have known the ring was cursed. This was the perfect way to honor Dumbledore and everything he’d meant to Harry. 

“That’s what I’d like,” Harry said. They shared a look. McGonagall looked like she might pity him, so whoever it was wouldn’t be pleasant. He knew all the professors, though, and maybe some of them were strict but…. “Oh,” Harry said with a blush. “Snape.”

“Yes, Potter,” she huffed. “Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore were close. If that is all, I will see you at the feast.”

Harry blushed again and muttered, “Yes, Mum,” before heading down to the dungeons. 

It wasn’t a part of the dungeons where students were allowed to go normally. The walls were lit with softly glowing sconces. Their common room was decorated in neutral tones and was mostly occupied and completely silent. Harry ducked his head and hurried past them. He wasn’t comfortable around other people anymore. The sun didn’t shine out his ass and he wasn’t special. The people that were special were the ones who had sacrificed themselves in the war. He popped his head into the room on the boys’ side with the red door. 

Neville was unpacking his things onto the desk and greeted Harry with a grin. “Hiya Harry!”

“Hey Nev,” Harry muttered. His trunk was at the end of the other bed, waiting to be unpacked. But that could wait. Instead, he crawled onto his bed and pulled the drapes. 

Something crunched under him and he immediately shifted to his knees. It was a letter, just left on his pillow. He picked it up and settled back against the headboard. It wasn’t addressed. After running a few spells over it, he knew it wasn’t cursed, either. 

He opened it and took a deep breath.

>   
>  Now is the winter of our discontent. Made glorious summer by... the prodigal son. 
> 
> I never imagined the ways in which you would change our lives. There were years in which we were happy. It was unexpected for us both. Albus, I think, had planned on living his life alone. He had you to worry about and I rather suspect you know by now how fabulously his last relationship failed. 
> 
> My first day here as a professor was nearly as miserable as my first day here as a student. I was 21, just a few years older than the oldest students –most of whom I knew from my years here. Albus insisted on meeting. 
> 
> The students walked all over me. I was too quiet, too afraid of speaking, and they had no inclination to listen to me. It was the first time Albus cared about my low self-esteem. That day was another terrible blow against any idea that I was worth anything. 
> 
> He pulled me into his arms. For a moment, I wanted to cry. No man had ever held me –not my father, nor anyone else. All he did was hold me. I peered up into his eyes, his soft gentle eyes. 
> 
> That night, I gave Albus the only innocence I had left. 
> 
> We must both carry on without him, Potter. Every argument I had with him that inevitably ended with me jealous of the love he had for you; every time you blasted your core at one of us, with vastly different intentions; every instance of pride and disappointment will be burned into my memory forever. 
> 
> I know you loved him. I could feel it, every time you burst your core. Sometimes you did it to me out of frustration and primal desire, but you did it to him for the same reason I was with him. You wanted his warm, protective arms around you. You wanted to hear that you were loved, his boy. He would want you to know that you were adored, his boy, the one he wanted to have the world. His love was yours, not mine, and I know it.  
> 

Harry read it twice, tears pouring down his face. Dumbledore had loved him after all. He brushed his thumb over the place where a signature should have been. Who was this person to know him so well? He’d never told anyone his fantasy of being in Dumbledore’s arms. The man was so, so, old! Nobody would ever understand the attraction.

He curled up and continued crying. There was somebody out there that knew what it meant to love Albus Dumbledore. “You were his boy,” he whispered as a mantra as he fell asleep.

\--:--:--:--

Harry ate at the table with the other 8th years and then hurried down to Snape’s office. They hadn’t spoken since the dust had cleared. Maybe there was nothing to say, or maybe there was too much. He straightened his sweater and knocked. “Come!” Snape called. 

The office looked just like it used to. There were odd things on the walls and notes scattered about. Harry was almost certain the walls were a different color, a little bit lighter and less intimidating. “Good morning, sir.”

Snape was seated behind his desk thumbing through papers. His reading glasses rode low on his nose and his hair was in a low bun. “Good morning, Potter.” He pointed to the visitor’s chair without looking up. Once Harry was seated, the man gave him attention. “Curse-breaking?”

“Ah, yes sir,” Harry said with a small blush. 

“Hmm,” Snape took his glasses off. “And is Prince Potter ready to work?”

Harry bit back his retort. He had to do this. Nobody else would ever die like Dumbledore did, not under Harry’s watch. “Whatever you want,” he finally said. 

“Good,” Snape responded. “I would like you on Saturdays or Sundays, whichever you prefer, and Wednesday evenings. Perhaps more often once you reach an appropriate level.”

“Thanks,” Harry said softly. “I… I think I’d like Saturdays.”

Snape’s eyebrows pulled together as if he was straining not to say something snarky. “Very well. Come after breakfast.”

Harry wandered the grounds for hours before settling on the astronomy tower. He replayed the fantasy in his head again, as he did whenever he missed Dumbledore. _Dumbledore’s arms wrapped tightly around his arms and chest, keeping him stable. They didn’t speak as they undressed or while their bodies came together. Harry was safe and warm and loved. Dumbledore’s beard tickled his chest._ All they would ever have was that fantasy. If Dumbledore had loved him, it certainly hadn’t been like that. 

\--:--:--:--

The next morning there was a note on his pillow. He fumbled with his glasses as he tore it open and felt his heart skip a beat.

>   
>  The second time, I thought he was punishing me. It was Yule, 1981. Your parents had been dead for months and the world finally seemed to be at peace. We had met on a weekly basis up until that point. I don’t know why I decided I needed to bare my soul to him. He knew of my past, the pain and the horrors. There was nothing I could say that he wouldn’t already know. 
> 
> I wandered into his office with the bottle of wine he loves, loved, I beg your pardon. He poured himself a glass and I sat up against his hip. That night I told him of my first transgression. I told him not hoping for forgiveness, but because I needed to be heard. I needed somebody to hear my life’s story and tell me I mattered. Though I would not wish the weight of my soul upon you, I desire your attention similarly. 
> 
> It was the summer after 5th year. My father beat me every night. We only had enough food to eat a few nights per week. Everything hurt. Every inch of my body ached. I wanted to run; I would have run if I knew of anyone that might take me. 
> 
> A rather interesting proposition came to me courtesy of Regulus Black. You should indeed know that name. He was younger than I, and rather annoying, but I liked him well enough. The Dark Lord wrote via Regulus to request a potion. He was grooming me even then.  
> 

Harry tossed down the letter as if it burned him. No, Dumbledore had not taken a Death Eater as a lover. He would never! Yet the letter called to him –he wanted to hear more about Dumbledore. He picked it up with shaking hands.

>   
>  He wanted a potion that could be considered a liquid Cruciatius. I believe the recipe came courtesy of Salazar Slytherin’s writings. The package contained the recipe and all the ingredients I would need to properly brew. 
> 
> I worked on it every night, after my father had beaten me and fallen asleep. Having something to focus on other than being miserable kept me alive. The potion was complex, beyond my years, but I was beyond determined. I had some idea what the potion would be capable of, and obviously knew who it would be going to, but I was naïve as to who it would be used on. 
> 
> Christmas, 1976, the Minister and her family were murdered using my potion. War was declared by my hand. Albus always saw fit to inform me that it would have happened with or without my direct involvement, but that does little to assuage my guilt. 
> 
> He played with my hair while he finished his wine and then led me to bed. Albus took great enjoyment in undoing layer upon layer of buttons. Beneath those absurdly colored robes, he was still a sight. Not muscular, but not fat like my father either. Albus was something in between. He had the body of a man while I still, very much, had the body of an adolescent. 
> 
> I was too skinny and unmuscular. There was not a single hair on my chest. In general, I am not… a remotely handsome man. But as he ran his finger over my abdomen and whispered sweet nothings, I felt as though I might be. I took him into my mouth and worshiped him until I saw the light, or at least until he showed me the light. As always, he was eager to continue. 
> 
> He put me on my back and kissed my stomach while preparing me. It was soft and easy, like a gentle caress. Had he been anyone else, I don’t know that I would have allowed myself to give into the pleasure and enjoy. But he wasn’t anybody else. He was the only person that’s ever loved me.  
> 

Harry rolled onto his back and let his legs fall apart as he tried to picture it. His fingers, Dumbledore’s fingers, pinched at his nipples before tickling down his happy trail. They gave a single tug at his cock before brushing past his balls and finding a home at his pucker. He just rubbed them lightly against it.

“I love you Harry,” he whispered as he pushed his middle finger in. He adjusted his hips until the angle felt comfortable and then slowly moved it in and out, as hot tears streamed down his face. 

\--:--:--:--

Wednesday came and he reported to Snape’s office after classes ended. He entered and stood in front of Snape’s desk quietly, waiting to be addressed. Now that he was here, he wasn’t sure he could look Snape in the eye. A single tear ran down his cheek. 

“He would not want you crying,” Snape said as he set his papers down. 

Harry tried to hold back the tears as he looked at Snape, but hiccupped and ducked his head in shame. He wrapped his arms around his middle. A hand grasped his shoulder and his head was suddenly up against something firm. 

He looked up just enough to see the outline of Snape’s jaw and then took a step back. “I’m sorry,” Harry whispered. 

Snape snorted. “Being sorry does not change anything, does not fix anything. Grow, be better, that is all you can do.” He crossed his arms over his chest, per his signature move, and glared. “Albus would have sacrificed himself in an instant to protect you. And… he would have encouraged you to mourn in your own time.” He smirked and emitted a low growl. “He also would have wanted you to take your studies seriously.”

Harry nodded and sniffled. “I promise,” he whispered. 

“Tell me, Potter,” Snape said as he returned to his seat. “When did you first know Albus had got himself cursed?”

After taking a deep breath, Harry sat back down. “He picked me up and took me to convince Slughorn to return. So before term started, but I didn’t know what it meant.”

Snape hissed. “Ah yes, the great Harry Potter with all his fame and celebrity. Of course Slughorn would want to… collect you.” Harry bit the inside of his cheek. “Albus knew the risks. I did what I could. There was nothing more to be done.” He opened a new file on his desk and gently placed his glasses on his hooked nose. “There is one dark artifact in this room. Do what you must to bring it to me.”

Harry gulped –a hands-on task so soon was unexpected. Though he doubted it would work, he cast a basic revealing charm. Nothing. He walked back to the door and started on that side of the room. With his wand rested against his side, he extended his hand and hovered it over each object. 

It wasn’t until he was behind Snape’s desk testing the books that he felt something odd. It wasn’t wrong, per se, it just felt off. Harry cast every detection charm he knew to try and figure out the spell, but still there was nothing. He gave a nervous glance over his shoulder at Snape and then pulled the book down. 

There was no immediate effect, so he flipped it open to the center and started turning the pages. Towards the back, there was a section cut out. A grin erupted on his face. There was a button! He ran his hand over the air above it and felt as if an alarm was ringing in his head. This was certainly the cursed item. 

He set the book down on Snape’s desk and sat back in the visitor chair. Snape continued marking on his paper until he’d reached the end. “I had it half in mind you wouldn’t find it,” Snape said. 

“I’m not totally stupid,” Harry whispered. 

“Apparently not,” Snape retorted. “However, that took you far longer than it should take one naturally inclined to ward-detection. You will find that the object is not just cursed, but heavily warded. Should you breach those wards, a nasty curse would indeed befall you.” He narrowed his eyes and tapped one of his long fingers on the desk. “As a master, you would have no problem negotiating the wards; however, you would be hard pressed to identify the curse afterwards.”

Harry frowned. “Like Dumbledore?”

Snape sighed as he nodded. “Like Albus, yes. I do not believe the curse would have been easily detected, but I know for a fact he had time to do it. He simply did not think it was important enough.” 

“Oh,” Harry said as he looked down at his lap. Dumbledore had been careless, just as Harry had been so many times. “Typical Gryffindor.”

“Indeed.” Snape stared at Harry a long moment, rested his arms on the desk. “How many types of ward can you think of, Mister Potter?”

Harry bit into his cheek as he sorted through what he remembered from what little reading he’d managed. “Physical wards, like the Fidelius, that protect the physical location or attributes of an object. Ma..magical wards, they can hide the core or…or magical attributes of a wizard. Uh, protective wards that basically make an object inaccessible… like, it can’t be touched without… consequences.”

Snape gave a half nod as he reached into his desk and pulled out a book. “Your eloquence is astounding as ever,” he said tiredly. “You’ve forgotten mental wards. They are not mentioned in common literature. Legilimency is likely the only form you are familiar with.” 

“I didn’t,” Harry blushed and cut himself off. 

“As stated,” Snape said with emphasis, “you have already shown more competency than expected. Go, read.” He pointed toward the door with his marking quill in hand for only a second before putting his head down. 

Knowing he’d been dismissed, Harry picked the book up silently and tucked it into his bag. There was still a blush on his face and tightness in his chest. After the time Snape spent trying to teach him Legilimency, how could he possibly forget to mention it?

He entered the library and it went silent. It wasn’t just 1st years staring at him, but everyone. He ducked his chin and pulled his bag closer to his body as he walked to the back of the library. The table at the back was never occupied due to its uneven legs and splintered top. He sat on the rickety stool and emptied his bag onto the table. 

He could still hear the whispering as he flipped open the book, but suddenly it wasn’t so important. There was a note, same as the others he’d received, tucked between the pages. It all connected together. Snape! Of course he would have been tapped to brew for Voldemort. Who else would have begun teaching at the ripe age of 21? He snorted as he thumbed the crease of the letter. 

But even if it was Snape, even if they struggled to talk, it was a connection to Dumbledore that he desperately needed.

>   
>  He would worry about you, the way the students stare. Fighting the war was never going to be enough. You and I have not discussed our roles, much less where life goes from here. I am trapped in this castle –many of the survivors, despite Longbottom and Lovegood speaking in my favor, have held a grudge. Though well deserved, the risk to my life is enough to calm any inclination I have to venture outside these walls. Hogwarts is the only home I’ve ever known, and I expect the same is true of you. 
> 
> For you it is less a danger of physical harm and more the risk of enthusiastic assault. You have the reality of wondering if anyone will ever love you for you. While I would never claim such a thing toward you, you will never know anything other than honesty from me. If I am angry, you will have deserved it. Should I be proud, it will be from your actions and not sentimentality. Should I, heaven forbid, be overcome with the desire to embrace you in fraternal joy, for we share the brotherhood of a mutually fought war, I shall. 
> 
> I expect the same of you. 
> 
> Honesty and trust are vital to what I need to teach you. 
> 
> If memory serves, Albus and I had the same discussion in 1985. It was early, 3 am perhaps, and we’d enjoyed the night. I believe it was sometime between Samhain and Hogmanay. There are parts of that night I remember well –we drank too much and exchanged sweet nothings in Gàidhlig. I don’t believe he spoke a word of it before me. But I like to speak it in certain intimate spaces. He was a devoted partner and took the time to learn what was important to me. 
> 
> By that point, there were few secrets between us –most centered on our respective families. I am a natural Legilimens and was well accustomed to using it, but what he suggested went beyond anything I had ever imagined. 
> 
> Albus asked to instruct me in a much older mind art, one so old and so forbidden it no longer has a name. It allows the connection of two minds into one core, so to speak. Without the connection, I could not have killed him. His core would have gone on the offensive and likely put up enough of a fight to take me with him. 
> 
> In 1985, there was no way for either of us to know what it would take to end the war. Do not assume that was the intention. He did it for a few reasons. With our combined cores, the Hogwarts wards became nearly indestructible. He always knew when I was upset and could calm me from his office. I could always feel his presence. There were days where it was the only thing that kept me sane, much less alive, particularly under the Dark Lord’s wand. 
> 
> There are a great number of benefits to such a bond. Isolation is dangerous and I assure you, there are far worse things in life than letting me keep an eye on you.
> 
> S.S.  
> 

Harry read it twice before going to the table of contents. There it was, chapter 12 –mutual warding of the soul.

\--:--:--:--

Harry sipped at his coffee while he read the morning paper. His toes were still curling with the memory of the night before. Every time the wards shifted in their daily flow he could feel Severus’ magic surrounding him, the man’s bum clenching around him. The castle felt alive. While he could not focus on anyone, the presence of each person was there, just out of reach. 

Severus entered dressed for his day of teaching and said nothing as he prepared his breakfast. The man was quiet more often than not, but Harry didn’t find it to be off-putting, especially not now, when he could feel the man’s… everything. 

A twinge of something, fear maybe, flashed across his awareness and he wondered how Dumbledore had managed. All he wanted was to hold the vulnerable man. Luckily, he could. But those years of the war, he could just imagine Dumbledore pacing, waiting for Snape to return to his arms. 

He stood slowly and watched for the head movement he knew meant he’d been noticed. “Severus?” he called softly, the name sweet and still new on his tongue. He wrapped his arms around the man’s waist and let him lean back. After two years of a mastery with the man, he’d finally outgrown him. He rather loved being the big spoon. 

An emotion came at him through the bond, but he couldn’t name it. Warm, relaxed, loved. Beneath it, he could feel the last remnants of Snape’s bond with Dumbledore. It wasn’t strong –compared to when they’d started, it was barely noticeable —but it rang true, the same as theirs. The love and devotion Snape had given their friend was equal to that he gave Harry. “Home,” Snape whispered. “It’s the feeling of home.”

Harry smiled as he ducked his head down. Home. It wasn’t the man he’d always thought, but after the past few years, this was the only man he wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment here or at [Livejournal](https://snape-potter.livejournal.com/3779867.html), [Insanejournal](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snape_potter/1714795.html), or [Dreamwidth](https://snape-potter.dreamwidth.org/1026511.html).


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